


before we jump

by thestrangehistorian



Series: Prompts from Tumblr [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Thieves, Heist, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Partners in Crime, Prompt Fic, i liked this so much i had to put it on ao3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 02:52:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14071332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestrangehistorian/pseuds/thestrangehistorian
Summary: Arthur and Francis hate each other, but they've been partners for ten long years. Almost long enough to forget why they hated each other in the first place. When their last and greatest heist goes terribly right, they will be forced to decide - whether they stay together, or never see each other again.





	before we jump

Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy had been partners for ten long, productive years - through thick and thin, everything from petty thievery and scams to bank heists - and they still had not achieved their dreams of being horribly, filthy rich and then parting ways, never speaking to each other again.

Ten years, Arthur thought idly, was quite a long time to spend in one person’s company. Almost long enough to forget why you hated them in the first place.

“Hurry up!” snapped Francis, hovering too close over his shoulder. “The patrol will be here in -”

“One minute and seventeen seconds,” Arthur muttered, turning the safe lock and frowning when he didn’t hear the telltale click. He would have to reset and try again.

“Sixteen now! Fifteen… fourteen…”

“I know bloody well what time they’ll be here, Francis, now shut up and let me work!”

“This was your idea,” Francis grumbled, accenting thickening in a way that Arthur would never admit was attractive. “I should have known that it was useless.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. Francis would’ve gladly died before passing up an opportunity like this. A train from Paris to Salzburg, a cargo of fine fabrics and manufactured goods - not to mention a set of precious jewels, mined in India and Africa, gifted to the Duke of Luxembourg by… The details were lost on Arthur after this. Details were Francis’s job, anyway.

The safe’s lock loosened helpfully, but refused to open. Arthur clicked his tongue and dug in his bag for more tools.

“Can’t you go any faster?” Francis demanded, glancing over his shoulder to the door of the darkened train car. “Fifty-two seconds.”

“I told you to shut the hell up, didn’t I?” Arthur grumbled, drawing out a long and thin listening device - invented by an American that Arthur would never admit to considering among his closest friends - and aligned the pieces against the safe.

“Fifty seconds.”

“Get off me!”

Arthur pressed the ends of the device to his ear and turned the lock, praying that this time he’d worked out the correct combination.

Click.

The safe’s door swung open and jewels practically spilled out. Arthur looked at Francis, who’s eyes widened, reflecting the same blue of the sapphires within, sparkling more beautifully than all the diamonds in the world. He wasn’t necessarily a “pretty” man - handsome, yes, despite his perpetual stubble and entirely because of his jaw and his cheekbones - but those eyes. Arthur had long-since given up pretending that those eyes didn’t excite him twice as much as the thought of riches and glory.

Francis grinned at him. “We’ve really done it, you damned English black-sheep! We’re going to be rich!”

Arthur flushed and looked away to hide his disappointment. He was happy, yes. They would be richer than they’d ever dreamed. This was the haul of a lifetime. He’d waited for this moment for ten long years - endured fights, near-misses, near-deaths - but now…

They’d promised that they would go their separate ways. But now, faced with that grim reality, Arthur didn’t want this - whatever it was - to end.

“Come,” said Francis, already scooping the gems into their bags. “Thirty seconds before that patrol comes in.”

“Ah - right.” Arthur went to help, failing to ignore all the times their fingers knocked together as they scrambled to clear the safe.

Arthur had just sealed the bag containing his tools and the gemstones when the door to the car slid open. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze and the roar of the train as it emerged from the tunnel swelled in Arthur's ears. Lantern light pooled in the entryway and his blood spiked with adrenaline - the safe was still hanging wide open - and there were several pairs of heavy footsteps and Francis turned on him with wide eyes and threw himself over Arthur in what seemed like the most useless defensive measure and -

“What in hell is going on here?” said a guard in French. Arthur, frankly, agreed with the general sentiment; Francis was practically pushing him into the wall, obscuring the safe from view as best he could by using both of their bodies as a shield.

And also, Francis was kissing him.

It was - well, quite dramatic. Francis didn’t seem to care that Arthur was mostly just sitting there and not reciprocating; he was putting all he had into making this the most passionate kiss of all time. Arthur’s heart went wild, swinging from arousal to panic to rage within moments until he feared he would be too dizzy to stand.

Francis pulled back, pretending to be startled. He kept his eyes lidded, a sloppy sort of grin on his face.

“Ah, monsieur,” he said, swooning. “I - hic - I must apologize… hic! I had thought for sure we would be undisturbed here…”

This was the other part of Francis’s job: worming the two of them out of trouble. Arthur resolved to keep his mouth shut while he worked; he would let his mortified expression and scarlet flush speak for itself. Plus, this would give him some time to calm down after…

“How did you make it back here?” the guard demanded, glaring down at Francis, who lurched unsteadily to his feet, shifting just so that he covered the safe. Not enough, thought Arthur, his heart racing when he saw the other guards - six of them, _bloody hell, that’s too many_ \- eyeing him as well. “The passenger carts are back that way -” the guard was saying, jabbing a finger at the other door. “The back of the train is for cargo, you drunken pervert!

“I ought to throw you over the side -”

“No,” Arthur said, coming to stand up beside Francis. “No, don’t just punish him. It was partially - er, my fault, I’m afraid. You see -”

Francis shook his head frantically but it was too late. Arthur’s mouth opened and closed, utterly failing to come up with an excuse.

Worse, without Arthur’s movement had drawn the guards’ eyes to the safe.

“Fuck,” said Arthur softly. Francis sighed and pinched his nose while the guards worked it out.

“You…”

“Well, I think we’ve overstayed our welcome,” said Francis, smiling charmingly. “Thank you, _monsieurs_ , you’ve been a lovely audience, though the show was brief! Adieu!”

He shoved the guard into his coworkers, knocking them all off balance - and then, he grabbed Arthur by the wrist and ran.

“I can’t believe you would do such a thing!” Francis ranted, even as they threw open the door at the end of the train, leaping into the next car. The Frenchman went first, pulling his English partner through by the hand. “I had everything under control, you impulsive little worrywart!”

“Well, excuse me for trying to fucking help!” Arthur snapped back, as they began pushing a series of crates and boxes at the cart’s entrance in a makeshift barricade. “Next time I’ll let them throw you off the bloody train!”

“They weren’t going to throw me off the train! This is France, we are civilized here, unlike you -”

“Shut up and help me move these!”

They were too slow - the door slammed open, revealing the six guards and all of them with pistols drawn.

“DUCK!” Arthur shouted, and Francis barely leaped behind a stack of Italian-labeled crates before the guards shot at them. For his part, Arthur swung around the other side, so that he had a clear view of Francis across the aisle down the center of the cart. He drew his own gun, loaded it quickly, and fired a few precursory shots - missed, damn it, damn it, _damn it!_

“Why are you suddenly so worried about me, eh?” Francis snarled, pulling a pistol from his jacket and loading it. “Not like you’re planning to stick around!”

“Like hell I’m -” Arthur broke off when a bullet grazed his ear, snapping into a crouch. “Ten bloody years of my life wasted on you and you, on the other hand -”

“Me?!”

“Well, you made your position on the matter of our partnership clear from the very start, you insufferable, no-good, lying piece of -”

“Careful now, I might actually believe all those horrible things you say about me at this rate!”

“I mean every word I say!” Arthur shouted at him, uselessly. “Fuck you!”

Francis straightened up, grimacing, and - BANG - there was a shout of pain as one of the guards faltered and nearly tumbled off the train. Their leader bellowed, “MOVE IN, YOU COWARDS, WE OUTNUMBER THEM!” just as Francis shouted, “RUN!” and the train shuddered as it came over the bridge - the bridge Arthur had known was coming, it was in his maps and his calculations but now his timing was off and -

The bag of jewels toppled from his shoulders and rolled, the contents spilling out around the floor, diamonds glittering clear and pale in the dark car.

“LEAVE IT!” Francis howled, lunging across the gap and seizing Arthur once again, dragging him along. “RUN, ARTHUR, YOU IDIOT - RUN!”

“No -” Arthur’s hand stretched uselessly, nearly loosing his grip on his pistol as Francis took advantage of the distraction to pull him out of the car and slam the door behind them.

Francis did not move into the final car. He turned to a ladder outside the door instead and climbed towards the roof. The wind buffeted Arthur, pressing him back against the door, freezing and bitter. He could taste his own defeat.

All his hard work - the guards paused to fire, bullets ricocheting too close, and one was going for the diamonds that Arthur had dropped - damn his clumsiness, damn his stupid distractions, damn Francis, damn everything!

“Francis, you - the money -”

“Forget the money!” his partner snapped. “If you think for one second that I would let you sacrifice yourself for money, then you are wrong! Hurry! We don’t have much time.”

Arthur hated him. _So why don’t I want to leave?_ He followed Francis to the roof of the final car. The guards would not be far behind, Arthur knew. The pair of them had bounties on their heads - they were wanted in four different countries in Europe, and five American states. _God save us, we’ll be killed._ But when they reached the end of the car - the wide river rolling beneath them, the bridge stretching perilously out behind as they crossed… There was no place else to go except for…

He suddenly knew what Francis had in mind.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m always serious,” said Francis, grinning.

“We could drown!”

“I’m a strong swimmer."

" _I_ could drown!'

Francis shrugged. "I'll carry you to shore. Trust me a little. And besides…”

He unbuttoned a pocket on his jacket - revealing a star sapphire, a rounded jewel the size of a lemon, pure and unbroken blue. The sale on that alone would feed them for decades. It was easily the most valuable piece in the safe and Francis had gone straight for it.

Arthur - standing on the edge of the train over a rushing river, the wind in his hair and certain doom at his back, with Francis at his side - Arthur Kirkland, gentleman thief, threw back his head and laughed.

“God damn it,” he said, grinning. “I love you, you know?”

Francis smiled back, returning the jewel to its place. “I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

“STOP!” bellowed the guards, guns raised, creeping against the wind, towards the two thieves at the edge of the train car. “HOLD IT RIGHT THERE -”

Francis grabbed Arthur by the hand, and together, they jumped.


End file.
